


You decided to be here (with me)

by Frostwells



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: 02X07, 02x06, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, I just love Garcy, King of the Delta Blues, Mrs Sherlock Holmes, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, like damn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 02:19:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14558724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostwells/pseuds/Frostwells
Summary: From enemies to allies, acquaintances to friends, Flynn had established himself to be something more to Lucy than just a consultant for the team. He had made her laugh, made her cry; made her angry, made her happy. With the ever changing timelines, he had been the only constant in her life – the only one who ever understood her.Lucy’s only wish was that at the end, he wouldn’t leave her.





	You decided to be here (with me)

**Author's Note:**

> Garcy has ruined me and I'm completely happy about that. I mean, how could it not? 
> 
> This is my take on the eps between "King of the Delta Blues" and "Mrs Sherlock Holmes". And yes, I may have been to listening to "Love in This Club [Part 2]" by Usher and Beyoncé, hence the title. It's a good song. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Timeless. If I did, there would be an 8 hour cut of just Lucy and Garcia "talking".  
> Claimer: I do own my 48 hour caffeine-induced grammatical mistakes.

She never once believed that she would find a confidante in the terrorist, a man who she chased throughout time, fighting on the opposite sides of this invisible war on a scale grander than they’ll ever comprehend. He was a man that wrought destruction and murder around him while she fought for peace; to keep the world in balance.

Yet, the scales had tipped and the historian lost the one thing she ever held dear to her. Lucy will be damned if she allowed that to happen again.

The terrorist had claimed – no, _sworn –_ that despite the never ending turmoil around them, Flynn would never intentionally hurt her. He had never intended to erase her sister from existence. Why would he when his entire faith – his belief system – relied on him and Lucy working together? The whole battle to destroy Rittenhouse extended beyond the personal goals of revenge, especially when the Rittenhouse Princess was involved.

But the future was coming, their past catching up to them and there was nothing they could to change the odds. Until they hear the deafening sounds of the alarm ringing throughout the safe house, there’s nothing they could do but wait. Maybe even steal what little peaceful moments they have left.

So, when Lucy knocked on Flynn’s door in the dead of the night with the promise of alcohol and shared company, seeing her was definitely a pleasant surprise. She peered up at him, her honeyed eyes wordlessly asking him permission to enter, a half drunken bottle of vodka gently sloshing around the glass in her hand to sweeten the deal. The older time traveller was stunned to see Lucy at his door so late in the evening, especially the events that transpired in 1936 about him wanting to get to know her.

And here she was, giving him a chance. All he had to do was let in her in.

So, he did.

With a slight chuckle of disbelief from Flynn, Lucy took that as an invitation and propped herself off the wall, pivoting her body into bunker. He moved his hand off the door frame and gestured her to come in, the door closing behind them with a loud _clank_.

This seemed to be becoming their thing as of late; their night rendezvous, a comfortable companionship along with a bottle of booze – perhaps, if lucky, even two. In this case, it was just a half-empty bottle of vodka though it was definitely much more preferable to the sorry excuse of a domestic beer stowed away in the fridge.

If Lucy came to him with alcohol stronger than fifteen percent, Flynn wouldn’t mind drinking with her every single night. Hell, even if she approached him empty handed, he would’ve accepted her company regardless.

Lucy awkwardly stood in the middle of the cramped bedroom, though one would argue it was more of a storage space than a bunker. There was a cot set up against the wall that was covered in a thick, blue comforter and a few pillows. Across from it was a built-in wall shelf adorned with decent-sized cubby holes, some of them containing personal trinkets belonging to Flynn. An old, leather chair could be seen placed innocuously near the foot of the cot, no doubt worn down by how frequent it was used over the decades. In the very back of the bunker was outdated technology from what Lucy presumed to be in the early nineties, perhaps even earlier that was confined together.

“Have a seat, Lucy.” Flynn’s deep, accented English brought her out of her stupor who was regarding her humorously. Turning to face him, the look of mirth in his olive eyes eased Lucy’s apprehension. She went to go sit on his makeshift bed while he shuffled to his shelf and pulled out two shot glasses.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Flynn asked, wiping away the dust build up with a cloth before craning his head over his shoulder to look at the young brunette.

He watched as she opened her mouth as if to answer it before changing her mind and snapping it shut. After a few seconds, Lucy blandly answered, “I can’t sleep.”

Flynn raised an eyebrow. He was well aware of Lucy’s inability to get a proper’s nights rest yet he knew there was more to it than simple insomnia. There was the matter of Wyatt’s… _late night activities_ with his resurrected wife that kept the entire base wide awake. There were some nights where Flynn himself felt tempted to bang on the couple’s door and yell at them to keep it quiet. Though, that meant disturbing Lucy if she did manage to fall asleep.

Ever since Jessica had been forced to move in, Lucy had been sleeping on the couch in the lounge to accommodate an extra person in their home. Wyatt and Jessica in one room, Rufus and Jiya in hers. The brunette was too selfless to allow anyone else the misfortune sleeping on the stiff, old sofa.

He took the bottle from Lucy and poured them each a shot of vodka. Handing her one, she mumbled her gratitude as they clinked the glass together, quickly downing the liquid in one go. The alcohol burned their throats, more so for the historian, letting out a harsh gasp, the feeling of the warm fire spreading throughout her stomach.

“So,” Flynn started, situating himself beside Lucy on his cot, “are you gonna tell me the real reason why you’re here?”

Lucy shot him an incredulous look, having believed her earlier reasoning was acceptable enough. That she couldn’t sleep. But apparently, it wasn’t. Tracing the rim of her shot glass with her thumb, she glanced down at it and murmured, “I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.”

He didn’t say anything back. Instead, Flynn unscrewed the bottle and poured the contents into their glasses. He didn’t know what transpired between her and the man-boy soldier, Wyatt, after he left those two alone together. But if Lucy was here with him, then it must’ve not been pleasant considering she always acted she’d rather be anywhere else in the world than with the former terrorist.

Yet, Flynn found himself being drawn to the former professor, wanting to offer her whatever comfort she’d accept from him. She’d been through so much hell already; Lucy didn’t need to add heartbreak on top of her never ending stress. Nonetheless, if she wanted to wallow in her misery, he wouldn’t allow her to suffer alone.

“I’m guessing the conversation between you and your Wyatt was…” Flynn swayed his head, pouting out his bottom lip, “less than amiable?”

Lucy scoffed, rolling her eyes. “He’s not _my_ Wyatt. Never was.” She drowned her shot in two gulps, taking a moment for the familiar burn to engulf her. “Wyatt, he found Rittenhouse’s main hideout.”

Flynn perked up at the news. Of all things he had expected the former couple to talk about, discussing the mission Agent Christopher assigned to him was not one of them. And she assigned _Wyatt_ to deal with Rittenhouse? Flynn felt a little bit offended.

“Did he take it down? Did Wyatt destroy Rittenhouse?”

Lucy laughed bitterly. “No. They all escaped in the Mothership.”

He felt the disappointment hit his chest. Of course he didn’t take down the entire organization. Even doing something simple as gathering intelligence, Wyatt managed to muck that up too. Glancing at the woman beside him, Flynn surmised Lucy felt the same; the pursed lips, brow furrowed, the hardened eyes – all telltale signs of her anger.

“What _sucks_ was that he said my mother got away. That meant he _saw_ her but didn’t even take her down. Take _anyone_ down.”

“Lucy –” Flynn began but was cut off by the sound of her voice.

“In all honesty, I don’t know what I’m pissed off at more; the fact he failed his mission to bring down Rittenhouse for good or his fixation on you.”

His eyes shot up in surprise. “A fixation on me?”

“Yeah.” Lucy let out a sound of indignation before allowing a small smile to grace her lips. “I told him that you really pulled through in this mission and he was adamant on knowing what I meant.”

Flynn felt his chest swell with pride at the praise. Unlike a certain man, there was no way in hell that he was going to mess up a mission, especially since the course of the history as they know it relied on it. “And you didn’t tell him?”

She shrugged. “Why would I? If he wanted to know, he can wait until the debriefing.”

“Something tells me there’s to that.”

Lucy glanced at him with annoyance, a little bit irritated that he was able to read her so well. It definitely didn’t help that Flynn had practically memorized her journal that held her innermost thoughts.

Seeing her narrowed eyes, Flynn only smirked in retaliation, pouring themselves another round of shots. At this rate, they’ll finish the bottle in no time. He placed the bottle back on the nightstand, waiting for Lucy to elaborate.

Sensing that the older man was not going to let this go, she sighed in defeat, chugging down the clear liquid.

“Ever since Jessica turned out to be, well, _alive_ , in this timeline, I’ve been trying so damn hard to accept the fact Wyatt’s a married man and that he chose her over me.” She tossed the shot glass on the blankets and buried her face into her hands. “But he’s making it so difficult, always catching me off guard when I least expect it.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. In this timeline’s version of events, Jessica Logan was always alive and married to Wyatt but it was no secret that the younger man was having an affair with the former history professor. Yet, hearing her side of the story, claiming that Jessica was dead and that they only had one night of passion, Flynn had no reason to doubt her. Her journal entries were proof of it as well. It just made his existing dislike for Wyatt intensify. The boy had gotten what he wished for; his dead wife to come back to him. History had changed to his favour and yet, the man-boy didn’t seem to be too grateful for it, still pining for a woman he can no longer have.

Flynn finished the lukewarm drink before saying, “You’re in love with him.” It wasn’t accusatory or belittling like she half expected but rather, he was just…stating it.  

“I love him,” she said slowly, “but I’m not in love with him.”

The more she thought about it, the more she believed it to be true. Yes, Lucy loved Wyatt; she just wasn’t _in_ love with him. Remove the feeling of infatuation, and the underlying feeling of affection and admiration she felt for him from when they were friends remained.

“One would argue two and two are just opposite sides of one coin. It’s just the matter of time,” Flynn said pointedly.

She shook her head. “Regardless of what I felt towards Wyatt, there’s no more time left. It was just a one night relationship.” She deeply inhaled and then exhaled, calming her nerves. “I had the rug pulled out from under me, yet, he’s the one acting as if _I_ was the one who screwed him over.”

“Lucy,” Flynn began, putting his glass away and laced his fingers together, “I’m gonna be blunt with you. Wyatt? He doesn’t deserve you. Your ever present kindness, your big heart, your feelings – he doesn’t deserve any of it.” Flynn turned his head to look at Lucy squarely in the face. “What you do deserve is someone who isn’t conflicted with his feelings between two women. Someone who’d respect you, understand you.”

Lucy’s raised her gaze to meet his and her breath caught in her throat at the look she saw in Flynn’s eyes. She recognized it back from the hotel room in 1936 when they had experienced their own ‘awkward moment’.The steely resolve, the slight desperation laced with honesty. Though, as of right now, it was anything but awkward. For once, it was refreshing to let everything out, to be completely open with Garcia Flynn. It wasn’t what she was expecting, sure, but she didn’t regret it one bit. She was glad she took the opportunity to sneak off to his room and further her bond with the former NSA agent. Flynn wanted to get to know her and she wasn’t going to deny him his only request.

And a part of her wanted to get to know him better too.

She let out a breathy laugh. “Now, where can I find myself someone like that?”

Flynn poured the remaining vodka into their cups, not wasting a single drop and handed hers. “The world’s a big place. I’m sure you can find someone,” he replied, his voice low before raising his shot glass in a toast. “Who knows, they could be right underneath your nose.”

With that, they killed the last remaining liquid of the vodka, though Lucy downed her much faster than Flynn did, ignoring the smoldering look she saw reflected in his olive eyes. She blamed it on the alcohol, making her see things that weren’t there.

She leaned back on the bed, her arms supporting her weight. “I suppose you can’t give me a spoiler about my life and tell me who I marry, if I do end up marrying someone?” Lucy asked coyly.

He let out a bark of laughter, his eyes crinkling as he shot her a grin. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Lucy.”

“Damn,” she swore; her ruby lips quirked upwards in a smirk. “Care to give me a hint?”

Flynn pretended to ponder for a moment before answering, “You were engaged. To a surgeon named, Noah.”

“That doesn’t count!”

Oh, how badly she wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face but Lucy couldn’t help but smile broadly in return, his genuine smile infectious. It wasn’t mocking, or malicious like she had seen countless times before. No, this smile was one hundred percent genuine, making him look at peace and younger than he actually was.

Flynn could say the same thing about the brunette. Until their last mission in 1936, it had been awhile since he had seen her smile – seen her actually happy. Toothy grin and all. Not that forced, thin-lipped smile she pulled with everyone else. No, he knew Lucy.

Perhaps, it was the alcohol that made her more exuberant than the norm, but as they say – alcohol’s basically a truth serum that spoke the thoughts of the heart. And right now, she was happy. With him. Not with Rufus, not with Wyatt, but with him – Garcia Flynn.

The couple touched upon various topics as the night went on varying from personal interests, to Rittenhouse to fond memories – all except how Flynn acquired Lucy’s future journal. They both knew they had to be sober when they’ll eventually delve into that. But right now, they just wanted to enjoy this rare moment of peace in each other’s company.

Even if the vodka eventually hit them (or rather, just Lucy) hard.

Glancing at the old, digital clock on the shelf that illuminated the time, Lucy made a move to stand up before stumbling a bit, Flynn holding her steady.

“I…” she murmured, swaying a bit. “I should go. It’s late.” Her legs gave away and she sat back down on the bed. She was in no condition wandering the halls this late, even if her room was technically the lounge and her bed was a sofa covered in a thin, linen bed sheet.

“You can stay, you know?” Flynn offered. “I won’t kick you out.”

“I can stay the entire night here?” It was only joke. Lucy wasn’t actually serious about spending the remainder of the early morning in his room but the look in Flynn’s eyes showed her that he was.

“If that’s what you want, then yes.”

Lucy mentally groaned. Why did he have go and say something like that? The look of sincerity on his face made it hard for her to reject his offer. And the bed underneath her was a hundred times more comfortable than the sofa outside that wasn’t even half the size of her body. Bed plus Flynn with alcohol was no doubt enticing. Even she found it hard to resist temptation.

She shook her head a little too forcefully. “No, I don’t want to impose.”

“Trust me, you’re not. You’ll always be welcome here, Lucy,” Flynn said honestly.

Lucy gestured around the room. “Well, where are you gonna sleep? The cot looks a little too small for the both of us.” He jutted his chin towards the black loveseat near the foot of the cot. “Oh, no. I’m not letting you sleep on that thing. I’ll just go back to the living room.” She moved to stand up but Flynn caught her wrist in his large, warm hand.

“Please, Lucy.” Flynn looked up at her. “Stay.”

The historian glanced at the metal door and then back at the man, his eyes glassy from the alcohol.

“Fine,” Lucy conceded begrudgingly as she sat back down, already regretting what she was about to say. “But you’re not sleeping on the chair.” Flynn visibly perked up, a wide smile forming on his mouth. “This is a _onetime_ thing, okay?”

“Oh, like that one night relationship you had with Wyatt back in the 1940s?” he retaliated cheekily.

Lucy felt her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. Dear gods, why did he have to remind her about that? She came to Flynn to forget about her relationship with Wyatt – not to be reminded of it. Though, she knew by his smile that he meant no harm by it. Again, she’ll blame the slip up on the alcohol (yet, Lucy was pretty sure he would still bring it up, even if they were sober).

She rolled her eyes and bumped his shoulders with hers playfully. “You and I – we are _not_ sleeping together, Flynn.”

“But we,” Flynn gestured between the two of them, grinning, “ _are_ sleeping together. Or at least, about to. In the same bed.”

She let out a breathy chuckle at that, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re absolutely insufferable, you know that?” His grin only grew wider in response, flashing a row of pearly, white teeth. He knew he was being insufferable and enjoyed teasing her.

“So,” Lucy started, gesturing to the small cot, “how do we go about this?”

Flynn stood up. “Well, for starters, I have to change, Lucy.” He walked towards a filing cabinet and pulled out the top drawer.“Either you can turn away or you can watch. It’s your choice.”

Emboldened by the alcohol in her bloodstream, Lucy propped her elbow up on her knee, her chin resting on top of her palm. “I think I’ll watch, thank you,” she answered.

A loud, rational part of her brain was screaming at herself that this is all a mistake; a one, huge misunderstanding. That she absolutely didn’t know what she was doing. Any _sane_ part of her would’ve adverted her gaze and respected Flynn’s privacy. But the Devil’s water had eradicated any rational part of her and was replaced by this uncharacteristically bold version of Lucy Preston.

Flynn’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline in surprise. What happened to his Lucy? He was only joking, having already expected her to choose the former rather than the latter of his teasing suggestion. He was clearly not expecting to decide otherwise but that smug smile on Lucy’s face clearly showed him that she was very much serious about it. She was daring him.

Well, he was only a man. Who was he to deny what the woman wanted?

Through hooded eyes, Flynn grabbed the hem of his grey, long sleeved shirt and slowly pulled it upwards. Inch by inch, his pale skin became exposed, dark hairs splattered from his abdomen to his chest. His stomach wasn’t taut and had washboard abs like Wyatt’s but it was definitely nothing to scoff at. There was a little fat but it was covered by the muscles that no doubt accumulated from all the training he did from his days in the NSA.

But that wasn’t what caught her eye.

He smirked down at her, expecting to see her flush in embarrassment but instead, he saw the look of slight horror and sadness on her face. Seeing what she was looking at, all traces of playfulness he had felt disappeared. Flynn slightly regretted taking off his shirt, allowing her to see the marks that marred his body. There was no doubt in his mind that Lucy was most likely disgusted by it.

Lucy surprised him once again when she slowly got up and stood in front of him, her hand reaching out to touch him. She stopped, her fingers mere inches from his chest. She looked up at him apprehensively, as if she were asking him permission and Flynn nodded. His breath hitched when her cool hand touched his warm, bare skin, as if he were being shocked by a million, tiny jolts of electricity.

“Does it hurt?” Lucy asked softly as her finger gently traced the outline of one of the many raised tissues.

Flynn had to repress his shudder at the sensitive touch. “Only the memories of it,” he answered, swallowing thickly. Her hand moved upwards.

“This is where Wyatt shot you,” she murmured, tracing the large scar on his right shoulder.

He hummed, recalling the particular events to distract him on how arousing this was for him. “Back in 1941, yes,” Flynn confirmed, exhaling sharply. “Completely unwarranted if you ask me.”

“You had a gun to my head.”

“I would have never shot you, Lucy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know that now. But back then to the Hindenburg, I didn’t know you. All I knew was that you were a terrorist who massacred his family and was trying to alter the course of history as we know it.”

He inhaled sharply when her finger ran down to his abdomen where a large, vertical scar was formed. It almost looked surgical from Lucy’s point of view; too clean to be healed naturally. She made a mental note to ask him about it on a later date.

“And now?” Flynn asked, his voice low and husky; it made her shiver.

“A lonely man who’s trying to do right by his family.” Lucy tilted her head to look up at Flynn who towered over her and pressed her hand flat against his warm skin, just above his heart. “And by me.”

Neither knew who moved first. Perhaps, they both moved simultaneously, the unspoken desire that was building up rapidly between them the past few weeks was finally becoming undone. Their mouths collided with each others, passionate and hurried mixed with desperation; almost as if they part, this sweet reality of theirs would crumble down into nothing but a fantasy.

Lips met tightly, warm breath and against warm breath, the scent of vodka filling their senses as Flynn maneuvered them to the cot. Feeling the edge of the bed hitting the back of her knees, Lucy sat down, pulling the older man down with her, never breaking the kiss – not that he would’ve allowed it.

This –all of this – it was a complete contrast from her one night stand with Wyatt. With him, it was slow, tender, the feeling of love adoration evident with every touch, every kiss. But with Flynn, it was much more darker than simple puppy love infatuation. Yes, this was completely different. Unadulterated lust engulfed the couple, months – maybe a year – of stolen glances, the missed opportunities of just letting their primitive nature take over and just find release with each other.

Flynn’s right hand smoothed across her flushed cheek and past her ear, moving to grasp the nape of her neck, pulling her A close to him as humanly possible. He brushed the hair away from her face, gathering it all into his hand. After a moment or two trying to get acquainted in a more primal way, Flynn tugged her head back in a silent plea.

_Open up for me._

When Flynn had said he wanted to get to know her better, for her to open up to him eight-two years ago, this wasn’t what she had in mind. Talking was definitely a top contender – not having her practically in his lap, their mouths tangled in a fiery kiss, both fighting for dominance.

Lucy found it harder to breathe with every kiss Flynn took from her, her mind dizzy. How could she when the sensory input of Garcia Flynn overwhelmed her? The taste of cheap vodka, the smell of sweat and cologne, the sound of a guttural groan when she raised her arms and wrapped it around his neck.

Realizing she hadn’t responded to his plea, Flynn pulled away ever so slightly, and Lucy felt a whine rise in her throat at the lost of contact but suppressed it just in time. His nose brushed against her, warm puffs of air tickling her face. “Kiss me, Lucy,” he asked hoarsely. “Please.”

She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the request. Weren’t they doing just that for the past five minutes? Panting softly, Lucy unconsciously licked her dry lips. Flynn groaned at the display and tilted his head, sealing his lips over hers once more. She sighed at the gentleness he exerted, no longer rushing their actions. His tongue traced the outline of her lips before dipping inside her welcoming mouth, tasting her in long, leisurely licks. Flynn’s kisses were confident, skilled and just enough possessiveness to arouse Lucy. He pulled her lip between his, tugging and teasing.

Lucy distantly registered the shift of their bodies, the cot suddenly against her back. Flynn hovered over her with one knee on the bed and the other on the floor. His left arm supported his weight as the other glided along her jean-covered leg, gripping her thigh firmly. The older man hummed in appreciation at the sound of a breathy moan that erupted from her lips.

“Flynn,” Lucy moaned.

“Say my name, Lucy. Say it,” Flynn demanded gently, wanting to hear the sound of his given name. Not ‘Flynn’, but the name his mother gifted him with.

Her eyes fluttered shut against the surge of arousal Lucy felt at his authoritative tone. When she opened them once more, they were glazed with unadulterated lust and for the first time since she first met him, she said his name when no one else dared to.

“ _Garcia_.”

Flynn stared into her honeyed eyes and Lucy offered him a shy smile, his intense gaze softening. She was silent as they couple felt the energy shift between them, no longer driven by pure passion, lust and desperation. Removing his hand from her thigh, he placed both of them on either side of her head and adjusted his body so he was completely on top of her. He was mindful of his weight, careful not to crush the woman underneath him. The only thing Lucy was concerned about was whether or not the cot was able to support both of their weight.

He leaned down and languidly kissed her, tasting her. Putting all his weight on his right hand, Flynn’s left hand trailed down to the waistband of her jeans, and pulled up her plaid shirt that was tucked into it. Once the material was freed, he glided his hands underneath the shirt across her bare stomach, feeling it contract underneath his palm. He moaned as his fingers spread against it, claiming it. Flynn’s calloused hand slid back down her smooth stomach, and out of her shirt only to reach for her collar and started unbuttoning the first few buttons; just enough for her throat and chest to be exposed for him.

“Garcia,” Lucy panted wantonly, her eyes never leaving his face as she watched his administrations. Flynn leaned down and suckled on the tender skin just above her collarbone. Lucy nearly whimpered at the intense sensation, a flood of fire running through her lower regions. She threw her arms around his naked back, her fingernails gently scrapping against his flesh. Flynn growled against her neck as he peppered her throat with wet kisses, bites and licks.

Gods, this was so much better than Flynn imagined – so much better than anything his brain could’ve conjured up. Her flushed face, hooded eyes glazed with lust, the deep timber of her sultry voice, her bruised kissed lips, and tousled hair fanned on the pillow like a halo.

Lucy Preston was absolutely gorgeous.

Flynn didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop. He wanted to finish what they ignited, to tear off her clothes and to feel hot skin against hot skin, whispering sweet nothings into each others’ ears. But prudence and rationalism took hold of his lusted mind, even if he ached at the mere thought of separating from her. Leaving a red mark just beneath her ear gave Flynn satisfaction; he marked her as his even though he had no right. She was not his property and certainly didn’t belong to anyone let alone him. But he himself needed the reassurance that this will go beyond one night and the angry, red mark marring her pale skin was proof of that.

Carefully, Flynn removed himself from on top of Lucy, settling beside her as she shuffled towards the wall, making room for him on the small cot. He faced towards her as he propped his left arm up, resting his temple against his hand. His heart halted as she wrapped around her arms around his waist, nuzzling his bare chest, letting out a contented sigh.

With a soft smile, Flynn moved the fallen hair away from Lucy’s face, and tucked it behind her ear, wanting a clear view of blissful expression. He then slid his right hand down her arms and brought it to rest on her hips. He traced intricate patterns against the slightly, exposed skin, basking in this rare moment of peace. He swore that he could hear both their heartbeats, echoing loudly in an almost synchronous rhythm in the quietness of his bunker.

There was no doubt in his mind that he was deeply infatuated with the historian, his feelings possibly running deeper than he can comprehend. How could he not when she saved him from damnation? Where was God when he needed strength during his darkest hours? Where was He when Flynn had begged Him to help cope with the unjust murder of his wife and child? God never really existed until Lucy Preston had appeared before him with a journal and told him there was a way to help them – to help himself. Maybe that was God’s sign of His help and that she was his Gift.  

Flynn gazed down at the woman with wonder and affection, pressing his lips against her forehead. In response, Lucy nuzzled closer to his chest, pressing her body flushed against his. He dropped down his arm, opting to slide it underneath her head for her to use as pillow, and pulled her against him. God help him, he was so weak for her. If anything happened to Lucy, he couldn’t bear to think at what lengths he would go to get her back.

All he can do was enjoy the present, and as of this moment, she was all his.

There was no Wyatt, no Agent Christopher, no Rittenhouse. Just them. Finally together.

X

“So much for trying to get to know each other,” Lucy grumbled but held her tone light, indicating that she actually didn’t mind. She shifted in Flynn’s arms, the sound of his steady heartbeat and his warmth lulling her to sleep.

Neither knew how long they’ve been lounging in each other’s embrace, but the dark hue in the sky indicated it the night was still young. The old, digital clock was too far away for either to read though they didn’t really care.

Flynn threaded his hand into her head and ran his fingers through her hair rhythmically, earning him a purr of content from the woman in his arms. “Well, this is one way of getting to know each other. It’s just more… _physically_ than verbally. I prefer this than the latter, don’t you think?” He shot her a roguish grin and she laughed.

Lucy raised her hand and placed it on his chest, idly playing with his salt-and-pepper chest hair. “I don’t mind either or,” she hummed, smiling to herself.

Flynn grinned at her impertinently, recalling the earlier events from tonight. Judging by the moans she made when he gave her a taste of pleasure, he’d say she definitely didn’t mind. He’d only hope she’d allow him to stick around long enough to show her the full deal.

“Lucy,” he called. His voice was smooth and gentle, his deep accented English oddly comforting to her. “Look at me.”

The brunette propped herself on top of his chest, mindful not to hurt him with her weight (not that she was heavy). She peered up at him innocently with her big, brown eyes, a smile on her lips.

“Yes, Garcia?” she asked, pronouncing each syllable of his name coyly.

She felt his chest vibrate with silent laughter, still unused to hear his given name out of her lips before his expression turning somber.

He gazed at her expectantly. “What are we, Lucy?” Flynn asked seriously.

She opened her mouth to answer but after a moment, she shut it closed, unable to give him an answer. What were they, anyways? Before he seduced her, they didn’t even have a label to their relationship. They weren’t friends, at least not in the societal definition of what ‘friends’ should be. Lucy chased him throughout time, trying to stop him from killing people as he begging her to join him on his crusade to destroy Rittenhouse – which she later learned that she herself was Rittenhouse and of ‘royal’ blood no less.

All Lucy knew was that Garcia Flynn was someone who was important to her, and she to him. She couldn’t imagine continuing to time travel without Flynn accompanying her or at least, waiting for her back in 2018. She needed him for his intelligence and as of late, it became more than just that; she needed him for his company. No one else could fill that position; no one else _will_ fill that position.

“I…I don’t know,” Lucy admitted. “But what I do know is that I need you.”

That wasn’t a good enough answer and she knew it. She knew it the moment his eyes narrowed and flashed darkly.

“Do you need _me_ or do you _need_ what I _know_?” Flynn asked bitterly, looking away. Lucy was having none of that. She shifted her body and placed a hand on his cheek, making him look at her.

“No, no. Garcia, look at me. Look at me.” He didn’t turn to face her but that didn’t stop her from continuing on. “Garcia, you have it all wrong. I need you and I need your intelligence. _I_ need _all_ of you.”

Flynn raised his eyes to meet hers. They were softer and less ominous than a second ago but still remarkably intense.

“Lucy, I need to know if this is all a game to you.”

She shook her head adamantly. “It’s not a game,” she promised. “However, I’m not going to lie; I’m scared out of my mind, possibly even crazy for considering the possibility of you and I being…like this.” Lucy gestured to their flushed bodies. “But I’m tired of the what-ifs. I’m still healing from whatever I had with Wyatt, but I’m not going to deny what I feel for you, either. Just…time is all I ask for. Can you give me that?”

He looked directly in her eyes, as if he were searching for the truth there. One minute, five minutes – it seemed like a lifetime when Flynn seemingly accepted her response. It certainly felt like it too.

“Time, I can do.” Flynn pressed his lips against Lucy’s forehead. “We should try to get to know each other, properly. Puzzle each other out. Start off by being…friends.”

“Friends with benefits?” she asked airily.

Flynn scoffed, offended at the very suggestion. “I’d like to think our relationship is much more sophisticated than that, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” she agreed before looking exasperated. “But really? Friends?”

She didn’t know why but Lucy felt as if being ‘friends’ cheapened whatever feelings she held for him; for whatever they held for each other. The desire, unadulterated lust and adoration definitely did not fall under the category of friendship.

“Lucy…” Flynn’s voice held a warning to it. “You said it yourself; you wanted time to build up our feelings towards each other. Is it really hard to believe that I want to get to know you? That I also want to take my time?”

In fairness, he made a valid point. Flynn and Lucy were never friends in the beginning, only reaching a truce when she allowed him to live with her in the safe house to use his intel in exchange for breaking him out of jail (which was her fault in the first place, though accidental).

“No,” Lucy conceded. “But if we’re starting out as friends, does this change anything?”

Flynn’s eyes darkened. “Oh, this changes everything. I’m not a man that shares, for one.” Flynn wrapped his arms around her possessively. “You’re mine, Lucy. That means I won’t share you with Wyatt.”

She raised an eyebrow. “He’s married,” Lucy said pointedly, wondering if he had forgotten about Wyatt’s newfound marital status; widowed to estranged marriage in the blink of an eye.

“That doesn’t mean he’s also confused about his own feelings. He will still treat you as if you two never ended your…one night relationship as you eloquently put it.”

As usual, he was right. Ever since Jessica was brought back from the dead, no thanks to Rittenhouse, her husband had been an emotional wreck, unable to compartmentalize his feelings. Wyatt had spent all of last year trying his damndest to bring his wife back, to change the timeline into the one their living in currently. He had given up after the information Flynn had given him turned out to be wrong. No matter what he did, who he killed, Jessica would never return to him. He accepted that fact and moved on, specifically towards the woman who anchored him – Lucy.

They had fallen for each other, though neither one could pin point exactly when nor where in time it happened. Perhaps it was during World War I did they realize they were alive – he surviving the explosion at Mason Industries and her from being captive by Rittenhouse. They allowed themselves one night of passion and somehow, fate would not have her being happy and took the rug out right from under her. Jessica was alive and it was only natural he would choose her over Lucy.

If only he behaved as such.

Wyatt was still tactile towards the historian, still showing her affections that were inappropriate for a married man; doubly so when he felt threatened by the sudden, yet budding relationship between Lucy and Flynn. Wyatt was possessive but so was Garcia Flynn.

Lucy will always have a special place in Flynn’s heart, no matter what their relationship status was. So, seeing her so utterly heartbroken over a mere boy when she could do so much better made Flynn decide that he’ll be the one to pick up the pieces. He wouldn’t allow her to wallow up in pain, not if he could help it.

And here she was, safe in his arms. Now that Flynn has her, he had no plans on letting her go.

“I’m not a woman that’s easily swayed, Garcia,” Lucy reassured. Reaching up, she brushed his dark locks away from his brow and pressed her lips against his forehead.

Flynn’s chest lifted and fell on a deep exhale, tightening his hold. “I know.”

Lucy rested her forehead against his own, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Flynn moved his head from her hair to cup her smooth cheek, angling her to deepen the kiss. She wanted more – he wanted more – but she restrained herself. They’ve already gone overboard this evening with their intimacy and they’ve both established that from here on out, they’ll be proceeding as friends.

She wondered how everyone else would react to them. Lucy was sure Rufus was going to have an aneurism if he ever learned what they were doing behind closed doors. Wyatt would most likely try to murder Flynn, as if he hadn’t already tried to in the past. Everyone else would be surprised at first but would later be indifferent about it as long it won’t compromise the missions.

But what about Flynn? Would he want to go public about their relationship?

Seeing that the young brunette was oddly quiet, Flynn was the one the prompted her out of her thoughts. “Everything okay?

“Garcia,” Lucy started to which was responded by a questioning hum. “What are your thoughts on…us?”

“Oh, I’m ecstatic, Lucy,” Flynn answered with a smile though her question prompted his gaze to betray slight anxiety reflected in them. “You’re not having second thoughts already, are you?”

“No, no! God, _no_.” She felt the tension leave his body as he let out a small sigh of relief. “I was just wondering if you wanted to tell everyone else about us.”

Flynn flashed Lucy a familiar grin – one she knew too damn well. “Only if you want to. Personally, I wouldn’t mind keeping it a secret for now. Sneaking around the base, stealing kisses here and there…” His large hands slide down her back to grasp her ass, looking at her smugly. “Sounds pretty exciting to me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible,” she said, swatting his hands away from her derriere. He only chuckled in response before she laid her head on his chest once more. “Garcia?”

“Yes, Lucy?”

“What about your goal to bring back your family?”

Lucy had never forgotten about his family – his whole reason on why he’s still fighting Rittenhouse. They’ve killed his wife and daughter in cold blood and Flynn would never find peace until he killed every single member involved in it. She just wondered where she fit in all this. Would he leave her once he resurrected his family?

 _Even ‘till death, you’re not willing to part with them_ , Lucy thought to herself sorrowfully.

“That hasn’t changed,” Flynn replied coolly. “Unlike Wyatt, I have no plans on staying with them. How could I, knowing the horrible things I’ve done just see them one last time?” He shook his head. “I’m not worthy of being a husband or a father to them again, Lucy. If by some miraculous chance I save Lorena and Iris, I have no doubt that my marriage will be strained. Lorena– she won’t be able to understand, to help me, with the things I’ve experienced. She’ll see me as a monster.” She felt his embrace tighten around her, trying to pull her close to him as humanly possible. “But you, Lucy? You’ve seen the worst sides of me. Dealt with it. Accepted it. Hell, I even erased your sister from your life and yet you’re still here with me, by my side.”

The sound of remorse and sadness in voice made her head snap up. “Her death was never your fault, Garcia. Not once did I ever blame you for what happened to Amy. I blame my mother and Rittenhouse, but never you.”

The vehemence and conviction in her tone surprised them both but it was the truth. Not once did Lucy ever accuse Flynn of erasing Amy. Yet, seeing the regret on his face, she wondered if he had been living with this guilt all this time. Surely, future Lucy would’ve written down in their journal at least once that it wasn’t his fault.

“I’ve accepted my fate that I’m never getting Amy back. Not if my mother is Rittenhouse.” Lucy reached out and gently cupped his cheek “But you? You can still have you’re happy ending with your family, Garcia.”

“I’ve made my decision long before I’ve met current you, Lucy,” Flynn said with finality in his voice but his face softened. He was serious about this and not even she could change his mind. In a way, Lucy was relieved by his statement. While nothing is set in stone of course, at least his answer implied that their relationship could go beyond than temporary.

“I see you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“Ever since you gave me your journal, I had years to think about it,” he said.

“Speaking of my journal –” Lucy began but was cut off when Flynn’s voice intercepted hers.

“We can discuss that at a different time. Right now, we should get some sleep, don’t you think?”

If Lucy wasn’t so fatigued, she would’ve accused him for evading the number one topic she wanted to discuss with him. But she found it difficult to even keep her eyes open for another minute longer. Flynn’s warmth, his deep brogue and his caresses certainly made it even more harder for the historian to stay awake.

“Fine,” Lucy relented. She let out a yawn as she snuggled deeper into Flynn’s embrace. “Tomorrow, can we talk some more?”

Flynn chuckled. “Yes, we can talk some more tomorrow,” he agreed, smiling down at the drowsy woman. “And the next day, too. Whenever you want, Lucy.”

Eventually, Lucy closed her eyes, breathing in his scent that’s uniquely Flynn’s, and was being lulled to sleep by the sound of his rhythmic heartbeat. Flynn resumed running his fingers through her hair and felt her release a blissful sigh.

Flynn had never been a fan spooning. He disliked the web of tangled hair tickling his face, the cold feet on his calves, and the numbing feeling in his arm. But as of this moment, he found himself not minding it one bit, especially if the woman in his arms was Lucy. Shifting their bodies, he curved his body around hers and stretched his right arm over her waist, spreading his fingers across her abdomen possessively. They fit together perfectly; her back nestled comfortably against his front. Flynn sighed in contentment, basking in the rare of moment of peace and happiness.

He’d only wished for more of these.

X

Morning came much sooner than they would’ve liked.

The two almost-lovers were tangled in an embrace, their legs entwined with each other, a clothed back flushed against a naked one. The brunette snored softly, no doubt exhausted, while the former NSA agent remained still, a content smile playing on his lips, enjoying the pleasure of relaxation and contentment.

Lying next to her, Flynn was very much aware that their evening could’ve gone a completely different route; one where Lucy wouldn’t be lying in his arms. He’d be lying if he said he’d be content with just a platonic relationship but having finally tasted her, he didn’t know if he’d ever let her go.

Careful not to wake her, Flynn gently lifted Lucy’s head and withdrew his arm from underneath her, placing it back on top of a pillow. He untangled her legs from his and removed himself from the cot, tucking her securely underneath the comforter. The older man regarded her sleeping form, the way her mouth was slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with every deep breath. Even deep in slumber, Lucy Preston was stunning.

Flynn walked over to the filing cabinet and threw on a grey shirt, carefully shutting the metal door on his way out. He was surprised to see Wyatt’s wife already up and casually leaning against the counter, taking small sips out of her ceramic mug.

Seeing the other time traveler of the team, Jessica gave him a polite smile. “Good morning,” she greeted. He inclined his head in response, giving her a tight lipped smile. “Sleep well?”

He opened the cupboards and withdrew two mugs, similar to the one in the blonde’s hand.

“I’ve had worse nights,” he answered curtly. Jessica nodded her head understandingly.

“I feel ya. Those beds are not exactly five-star material.” Peering up from the rim of her cup, she added slyly, “Definitely not meant for two people.”

The older man paused and looked at Jessica with narrowed eyes, unsure of what to make of that comment. Did she know about him and Lucy? Or was she referring to the bed she shared with her husband?

Seeing the scrutinizing expression on Flynn’s face, Jessica scoffed. “I may be blonde but I’m not stupid like everyone else thinks I am.” She jutted her chin towards the mugs on the counter. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that one’s for Lucy.”

Just as Flynn was going to ask her to elaborate, Jessica pushed herself off the counter and walked down the corridor. But before she made her exit, the blonde glanced at him over her shoulder and said, “She likes Earl Grey, two sugars.”

With that, she was gone.

Flynn stared at the spot where Jessica once occupied, bemused at what just transpired. Did she just seriously indirectly tell him that she knew what was going on between him and the historian? He didn’t miss the playful grin she shot him on her way out, so Flynn can only surmised that she knew. Well, it was obvious in the first place. Two mugs? Lucy missing from the sofa all night? It definitely didn’t take a genius to piece two and two together. Flynn only hoped she’d keep her mouth shut, even from Wyatt – _especially_ from Wyatt.

Once the ceramic mugs were filled with their respective beverages, he returned back to his bunker, surprised to see the brunette still fast asleep, her body sprawled out on his cot. Flynn chuckled softly at her unabashed position, a little pleased to figure out that even when sleep, Lucy didn’t present herself stiffly like when he had first met present-her.

Placing them on the nightstand, Flynn sat down at the edge of cot and traced her jaw line with the back of his pointer finger, trying to rouse the sleeping beauty back to the land of the living. He watched her stir and groaned, stretching her arms above her head, looking up at him through hooded eyes before ultimately closing them once more.

“Good morning, Lucy,” Flynn called out to her amusingly, brushing the tendrils of hair away from her face.

Lucy awoke at the sound of his deep voice and found him sitting on the cot, dressed, regarding her with a look of amusement. She yawned slightly before shifting her body to the right to face him, offering him a sleepy smile.

“Good morning, Garcia,” Lucy greeted back, her voice still raspy from sleep.

Flynn leaned over and pulled her up into a warm embrace. She hummed at the contact, lazily throwing her arms around his neck, finding his warmth very much inviting for her to go back to sleep. He pulled back and kissed her sweetly, uncaring of their morning breaths.

“Sleep well?” he breathed out.

Lucy nodded, letting out a sound of affirmation. “Best I had in a while, actually. Beats sleeping on the sofa.”

He chuckled. “I can imagine.”

Flynn couldn’t help but kiss Lucy soundly on the lips again; her sleepy smile and tousled hair made it difficult for him to resist her. He needed to put space between them if he wanted to be cordial towards her – to make this friendship work. That meant not kissing her every time she glanced his way.

He cleared his throat and handed a mug. “I made you tea.”

Lucy looked pleasantly surprised at the gesture. Taking the steaming cup out of his hands, she kissed him softly on his cheek.

“Thank you,” she murmured happily, taking a sip of the tea. She sighed at the familiar taste and felt her body literally waking up.

Flynn took his own drink off the nightstand and walked over to the worn down loveseat that was near the foot of the cot. Crossing his long legs, he leaned back comfortably, his gaze never leaving her body. Lucy swung her legs over the cot, placing it firmly on the ground as she drank her tea.

The couple sat in comfortable silence, no need to fill the air with unnecessary chatter. They did enough of that last night to last them for a while. But funnily enough, they believed that they could never get tired of each other whether that’d be just being in their presence or just conversing. Even now, just drinking their morning tea, looking at each other in silence, their eyes was doing all the talking.

Flynn’s eyes were twinkling humorously – at what, she didn’t know. Well, at her, obviously; she just didn’t know _why_. She squirmed under his gaze and his smile grew wider. He didn’t even need to talk or even move and Garcia Flynn could still be an ass. The way he looked at her, smiled at her, this was his way of teasing her.

Lucy downed the rest of her Earl Grey, not caring at the scalding feeling in her throat as she drank every last drop. Once she finished, she placed it on the nearest surface and hopped off the bed.

“I am going to remove myself from your personal space,” she announced, articulating each word slowly, almost awkwardly, Flynn’s gaze relentless. Lucy smoothed her clothes down, uncaring of her bed head and moved to the metallic door. Before she pushed it open, she glanced at Flynn and said, “Thanks for…” He gave her a suggestive look, answering her unspoken gratitude. “Yup! I’ll see you.”  

She closed his door with _klank_ , Lucy’s spirits at an all time high. Unbeknownst to the historian, a pair of jealous eyes watched her retreating back.

X

In a way, Lucy was relieved that she wasn’t partnered up with Flynn during their mission in 1919. Slicked hair, freshly tailored suit, his signature smirk, it definitely would’ve been hard for her not to show her appreciation and affection _physically._ It was definitely much more preferable to being stuck with a possessive and highly, jealous Wyatt who didn’t seem to comprehend that he was a married man.

She could’ve handled his behavior if they were back in 2018, in the bunker, away from prying eyes. Not in the precinct where women had no business being in, especially for Alice Paul who was vital in establishing the Nineteenth Amendment, who _needed_ their help. But just like Flynn predicted, Wyatt had a difficult time compartmentalizing his conflicted feelings towards the historian and the mission at hand.

“I _saw_ you this morning,” Wyatt stated angrily.

Lucy tossed him a bewildered look. “Saw me what?” _Getting breakfast? Talking to Agent Christopher? Changing? Gotta be a little more specific than that._

“Coming out of Flynn’s room!” he answered before looking at her in disbelief and disgust. “ _Flynn?_ For godsakes – the _terrorist_ who spent all of last year trying to kill us? I guess the Jessica thing was a little unexpected, maybe a little on the rebound –”

It was Lucy’s turn to lose her temper. Who was he to judge who she slept with? If she last recalled, he chose his _wife_ over her, to which was completely understandable. However, acting as if _he_ was the one duped in this relationship, that was uncalled for.

She cut him off harshly. “Rebound? I’m sorry but from what? Our one night relationship?”

Wyatt flinched at the vehemence in Lucy’s voice, a tone that he rarely heard coming from the usually soft spoken woman. But she was never soft spoken to begin with. That goes to show how little he actually knew her.

“That’s not what I meant,” he backpedalled. “I just meant you’re making a _big_ mistake.”

“What I do and who I do it with is none of _your_ damn business.”

Thankfully, Wyatt seemingly got the hint and backed off, focusing solely on saving history from being altered, much to Lucy’s relief.

Unfortunately, the said hint only seemed to last as long as the duration of the mission.

Alone in her room, recalling the events that transpired in New York City, 1919, she did not expect Wyatt to come to her, seeking her out. Lucy thought they’ve wordlessly came to an agreement that anything she did from here on out was none of his business, especially when it came to Garcia Flynn. She was her own woman, _not_ his property. Lucy was not bound to him by a matrimonial piece of jewelry or by a scrap of paper submitted the court of law. That was Jessica, his _wife._

Lucy flinched from his intimate touch and recoiled, shrugging off his hands from her shoulders. That only seemed to further upset the former soldier.

“I still care about you, Lucy!” Wyatt confessed exasperated, walking towards her. “I can’t make that disappear!”

“Wyatt!” Lucy admonished, her eyes hardening, cold. “You are _married_ to a woman that you love. You are _happily_ married. I have to accept that and you have to accept that. We can’t keep living in the past.”

They stared at each other, long and hard. She didn’t flinch or cower away from his intense gaze; almost as if he were hoping to see something in her eyes that claimed otherwise. Wyatt wouldn’t find it. Lucy meant every word of it. She needs to move on – she _was_ moving on – from what they had and so should he. They can’t keep pining over a relationship that wasn’t meant to be.

Seeing the familiar look of steely resolve on her face, Wyatt visibly deflated. “Okay, but Flynn? No. I mean, _seriously_?”

She sighed. How many times would he get it through his skull that no matter what she did, it’s none of his damn business? If she wanted to sleep with Garcia Flynn, a man who tried to kill them (more so towards Rufus and Wyatt, not here) all of last year, then she’ll bloody sleep with him. It’s her own body, her own choices – they’re not living back in 1919. Lucy made bloody sure of that.

“Wyatt, nothing happened. We talked. That’s all.” Lucy’s voice was airy as she tossed him a tight-lipped smile.

Lucy wasn’t lying, per se. She and Flynn – nothing happened, at least not what Wyatt had imagined in his head. There was a lot of kissing, cuddling, whispered affections, and spoken confessions, yes, but no sex. That’s seemed to be what’s primarily on the married man’s mind so she hoped her answer was sufficient. It better be because if he pressed her on Lucy decisions for a third time, she will not be held accountable for her actions.

The look of relief flooded on Wyatt’s face, indicating it was.

After spending a few more minutes in each other’s company, the blonde left, returning back to his bunker and to his wife. Lucy plopped down on the sofa, not caring that the white sheet no longer covered the furniture.

She was exhausted. Mentally, physically and emotionally. For a brief moment, Lucy had wished things would go back to things as it were before: being a History and Anthropology of American Political Movement professor back at Stanford University, living contently with her sister and sick mother. It was definitely rough but she was happy. She didn’t need her biological father or a fiancé she didn’t know she had in the picture or an organization that once deemed her to be royalty only wanting to kill her the next.

She didn’t need the constant exhaustion, the never ending betrayal, the myriad of conflicting emotions effervescing inside her. Lucy Preston just wanted her old life back. But Rittenhouse had taken that from her and dealt her with this hand. She had to make do with it, even if it meant her morality will be constantly questioned.

But if she had to choose a silver lining in all this, it would be that she wasn’t alone. Her family may be dead to her, literally and figuratively, and a fugitive from the American government, but she still had people she can rely on.

Agent Denise Christopher was something close to a mother figure towards Lucy and the team, always making sure they were okay. She would do anything for them, even if that meant going head to head with Carol Preston, questioning her parenting skills and nearly dying by her hands.

Rufus and Jiya were like the siblings she never had (in this timeline). They were funny, comforting and protective and definitely one those ride-or-die friends. Lucy would trust her life with them and had done so many times.

Wyatt was someone that Lucy once imagined forever with. However, that was foolish on her part. He joined the team out of his own personal agenda and that was bringing Jessica back from the dead. Now that he had, albeit unintentionally, he chose her over the time traveling history, and she accepted that.

Then, there was Garcia Flynn. There was no proper words she could conjure up to describe their relationship. By doing so, Lucy felt that would only cheapen the connection. They were enemies, fighting on the opposing sides of this invisible battlefield.

 _“Never trust a man with two last names,”_ Rufus once told her.

Yet, their bond was established long before she had met him, long before she knew him. Flynn had knew her back in 1937, though she had only known of him through his files. Lucy and her journal was his tool to end all this destruction, later becoming his hope and lifeline. She knew if anything happened to her, Flynn would do anything to get her back. Just like he’s doing with his family.

From enemies to allies, acquaintances to lovers, Flynn had established to be something more to her than just a consultant for the team. He had made her laugh, made her cry; made her angry, made her happy. With the ever changing timelines, he had been the only constant in her life – the only one who ever understood her.

Lucy’s only wish was that he wouldn’t leave her.

Last night, being with Flynn made her realize that she had more to lose than she initially thought. After Wyatt, after her mom, Lucy felt as if she had nothing left to live for – that her life held no purpose. Even back in 1918, Lucy was ready to give up her life just so she could _end_ it all. No more Rittenhouse, no more feelings, no more _anything_.

Then, of course, a no longer incarcerated Garcia Flynn came back hurling himself into her life, making see that there’s a purpose to everything. That she’s so much more and she could _do_ so much more than she believed. Even when she thought there could be nothing more to them, he surprised her by kissing her with such intensity – such desperation that Lucy never felt with Wyatt. As clichéd it sounded to even the historian’s own ears, they both acted as if they’re each other’s lifeline.

And in a way, that may be true.

Her mind set, Lucy made her way to Flynn’s bunker, not wanting to be alone. Turning down the corridor, she reached the familiar door and rapt her knuckles against it. When there was no response, she knocked against, apprehension growing. What if was he was busy, or worse – purposely ignoring her?

Just as she was about to leave, the door creaked open and Flynn peered out. His stoic expression morphed into surprise, not anticipating to see the petite woman on the other side.

“Lucy,” Flynn breathed, his eyes slightly widened. His hair was disheveled, no signs of gel anywhere, still wet from an earlier shower. The suit he had stolen was gone was well, back to wearing beige khakis and a grey sweater that hugged his frame nicely.

“Hey,” she greeted back, chuckling nervously. “Are you busy? I mean, if you are I can come back another time and –”

Before she could finished her sentence, Flynn yanked Lucy inside and closed the door with a slam, his mouth colliding with hers. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting to feel him closer.

Gods, she missed this; she missed him even though it had been less than twenty-four hours since she had been in his room. She was right thought; if she was partnered up with him during their mission in New York, she wouldn’t have been able to keep her hands off him. Seeing how passionately he was kissing her back, the feeling was mutual.

He pulled back ever so slightly, his lips arched up in an infectious grin. “I’m glad you’re here, Lucy,” Flynn whispered against her cheek, giving her another affectionate kiss. And another. And another. Lucy smiled against his lips as she placed her hands on either sides of his face, and pulled him back, deepening the kiss.

Flynn kissed her firmly, a closed mouth kiss that quickly developed into the tugging of the lips, the gentle tango of lips and the soft caressing of cheeks. _Yeah, he’s definitely glad to see me,_ Lucy thought to herself smugly when he pressed her closer, showing evidence of his arousal.

He paused and a wicked gleam flickered in his eyes when he saw the look on his her face.

“And just what are you smiling about, Lucy?” Flynn growled, resting his hands on her waist.

“I…” Lucy shook her head as her grin grew wider. “Nothing. I’m just happy.”

His eyes softened. Her smile, her touches, her being here with him; all of that made Flynn happy as well. Lucy could’ve been anywhere she wanted tonight; hanging out with Jiya and Rufus, talking with Agent Christopher…with _Wyatt._ Yet, she wasn’t with any of them. She had decided to be here with him. No one else.

Flynn didn’t say anything back in response. The look of contentment and happiness on his face said it all. With a final kiss on her lips, he pulled away and sat down on his cot. Lucy followed suit and placed her head against his shoulder once she was nestled comfortably beside him. He wrapped an arm around her smaller frame and kissed her temple.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Flynn asked again, reminding them of what happened the previous night.

She let out a heavy sigh. “Remind me to ask Agent Christopher if I can get my own room,” she grumbled. Amidst all the noise, there was no privacy. Anyone could literally walk by to the kitchen and see her lounging around. And just because she’s enjoying her leisure time – a luxury – that didn’t mean it was an open invitation to join her. Wyatt approaching her earlier this evening was a prime example of that.

Flynn was silent for a moment, watching her face change from exasperation to irritation.

“Why don’t you move in with me, Lucy?” he suggested.

The question was asked so casually, she had to take a moment to process his words.

Lucy gave him a puzzled look, her brows furrowing. “We’re already living together.”

He shook his head. “No. What I meant…” Flynn struggled to get the words out as he used his hands to articulate. “Is that I want you to move in with _me_. In this room. No more sleeping on the couch.”

Lucy was rendered speechless at the look of seriousness on his face. A part of her wanted to say no, that they’re moving too fast. Just last night, the two of them established that they will proceed as friends (that will make out a lot) and now he was proposing for her to move into his bunker.

“I think everyone would be scandalized, especially Rufus.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips and made him more handsome than Lucy would’ve ever thought to have perceived him; his lips quirked upwards, olive eyes peering up at her through his wet bangs that oddly refused to be tamed down.

Flynn smirked and shrugged. “I know. Don’t care.”

A part of him would like nothing more to see the look of horror on their faces on hearing that Lucy decided to take up residency in _his_ room. Another part of him just didn’t care at all and wanted to be with her every possible second they have together. In between the constant time travelling, debriefing and resting, it was hard to make time for anyone else other than for oneself. But he had hoped Lucy would want to _further escalate_ their relationship by moving in with him.

Seeing the reluctance in her posture, he cleared his throat. The pitch of Flynn’s voice changed; it was low and raspy, but lacked the punch to it. “Like, I said you don’t have to. It was just a suggestion. Nothing more.” It was said nonchalantly, almost as if he didn’t care either or. Yet, Lucy knew him better than that. It was his way of defending himself, to lessen the blow in case she rejected his offer.

He needn’t have worried.

Lucy placed a hand on his chin, the ghost of his five o’clock shadow tickling her palm. She made him look down at her and she felt the ghost of his lips placing a kiss inside her wrist.

“Okay,” she agreed softly.

His eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Okay?” he parroted in slight disbelief.

Lucy couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his reaction and kissed him softly. He closed his eyes, marveling in the softness of her lips, the tenderness in her touch, the gentle caresses of her fingertips on his face.

“Yes, Garcia,” Lucy confirmed breathlessly as she pulled away, resting her forehead against his damp one, “After I get permission from Agent Christopher, I’ll move in first thing.”

He didn’t say anything back but his smile was wide and radiant; almost blinding and certainly infectious, Lucy smile mirroring his own. Flynn extended his hand for her to take and pulled her into a passionate embrace. He kissed her tenderly, winding his fingers in the loose tendrils of her hair.

“Thank you,” he murmured, though she didn’t understand why Flynn was thanking her. Lucy definitely got the better end of the deal; getting a room, a bed and a man she found extremely attractive as a bonus.

Lucy wondered how she was going to bring this up to Agent Christopher. Yes, she and Flynn are now romantically involved. No, it won’t compromise their missions. Yes, she’s asking to move in to his room so she can have an extra cot placed in there (the cot itself is not meant for two people, no matter what Flynn said otherwise). And yes, this was still the correct timeline.

Rufus and Wyatt would take the news of their relationship much worse than Agent Christopher, if they ever found out. Rufus would scold the living shit out of her whereas Wyatt would not talk to her for days, maybe even weeks, having believed she had lied to him. It was none of their business but Lucy and Flynn’s and no one else’s. The thought of sneaking around was certainly much more tantalizing to her, not wanting to deal with the emotional stresses of her friendships.

“Cat got your tongue?” Flynn teased, peppering her cheek with small kisses.

She hummed. “Just thinking about how am I going to tell Agent Christopher and everyone else about this?”

His lips moved to the shell of her ear, causing Lucy to shudder at the close proximity. “I thought we agreed to keep this –” His hand tugged out her shirt from her pants and glided across the bare skin. “–A secret.” She gasped when his fingers traced the outline of her bra. “Tell me, Lucy; the thought of us sneaking around the base, me kissing you, or you kissing me when we’re not supposed to…tell me that’s not…alluring.”

With every break, Flynn had kissed her ear and moved lower to her neck; brushing her hair to the side while showering her bare throat with wet kisses.

Lucy seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.

She’d be lying if she said she didn’t. The thrill of doing something so scandalous in a public-not-so-public area, especially with a man that seemed to make her weak in the knees just by his low, gravelly voice alone, certainly sounded enticing.

Especially, if he kept making her feel this good.

Seeing the brunette so receptive to his bold touches, Flynn kissed her hard; all the built up arousal and tension snapped like lightning between them. Lucy shoved a hand in his damp, dark hair and kissed him back with equal fervor. His groan was erotic and loud, making her whimper at the desire she felt building up in between her legs.

 _Screw being friends_ , was her last thought before she shifted her body and straddled him, effectively trapping him beneath her. If he’d wanted to, Flynn could’ve easily tossed her off him but he didn’t and the grin he had on his face told her he had no plans on doing so.

“I want you, Lucy,” Flynn whispered roughly, his hands caressing every inch of her exposed skin underneath her black blouse, “I _need_ you.”

Lucy managed to breathe out, “What happened to us start off as friends? Taking our time to get to know each other?”

“What I feel for you, Lucy, this _attraction –_ ” Flynn leant forward sealed his lips over hers roughly, pouring his lust and desire for her in that one kiss as to prove a point before tearing away from her. “–it’s too intense to call it _friendship_ , don’t you think? Hm?”

She managed to say, “But then, what are we?”

Lucy had no idea how she still had a clear enough mind to piece together a logical and coherent sentence when all her senses was overridden by intense arousal. Yet, a niggling feeling in the back of her mind wanted to know what exactly their relationship status was. She was moving in with Flynn but she didn’t know if she just wanted to be an easy ‘booty call’. That would destroy her.

“We’ll discuss the superficial details later,” Flynn said flippantly, his eyes glazed with desire. “Right now, I just need to be inside you, Lucy. To feel my cock inside you as I pleasure you.”

Before Lucy could say otherwise, the older man tore open her blouse and pressed his warm lips against her newly exposed chest. She moaned as her fingernails scraped against the nape of his nape, earning her a growl from the man under her.

“Can’t accuse you of being silver-tongued,” Lucy muttered, though she wasn’t offending by his crassness. She felt him hummed against her chest. Her blouse and bra fell away by his dexterous fingers; then Flynn was cupping her perky breasts, kneading them gently with rhythmic squeezes.

His mouth surrounded the tip of her dark nipple and suckled it, causing Lucy to tip her head backwards in pleasure, letting out a throaty moan.

“Garcia–” Lucy choked out, the arousal intense. She could feel herself being wet, her panties being soaked with essence of desire; desire for Garcia Flynn.

“Shhh,” Flynn hushed her reassuringly as he continued to knead her breasts, rolling the nipples underneath skillful fingers. “I’ve got you.”

She let out a pitiful whine when he unbuttoned her dark jeans but was unable to feel her warmth against his fingers. Lucy slid off his lap and hastily shoved down her pants, taking her shoes off as well; leaving her clad in nothing but black, lacy panties.

Flynn’s mouth went dry at how sexy Lucy looked in front of him. Her chestnut tousled, her lips bruised from his own, her bare breasts rising and falling with every breath, dressed in nothing than a scrap of fabric that barely covered her womanhood. Lucy closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip. She opened it again and saw heat in her brownish depths.

He’d nearly lost it right then and there.

The sight of Lucy’s intense arousal hit him sharply, not just in his own heightened of excitement, but emotionally as well. She never looked at him with such want until last night and seeing her in just her underwear made him ache for her.

Flynn counted himself lucky that the man-boy, Wyatt, choose Jessica over her. He never deserved Lucy. He treated her more like a plaything – like property – than a woman. He, on the other hand, he’d worship her like a goddess she was. He’d erase all doubts about them and her experience with Wyatt all together.

He motioned for her to come back to him with just his eyes alone, and she did. Lucy straddled his lap once more and Flynn could feel her heat through his pants. He melded his lips to hers, caressing her breasts more forcefully and rubbing her nipples into tightened nubs. Lucy gasped in pleasure into his mouth and that spurred him on even further.

Without breaking contact, he roughly began unzipping his sweater, Lucy fumbling her hands on his to aid him. For a quick millisecond, the couple parted long enough to get his shirt off and Flynn tossed it haphazardly across the room before their lips meeting again in a desperate kiss. Lucy’s hand wandered appreciatively his naked skin and he did just the same to hers. Soon, he was groaning into her mouth, encouraged by her rocking hips against him. Flynn hissed out between clenched teeth.

“I need you, Garcia,” Lucy said breathlessly, inhaling his scent which consisted of soap, wood and another smell that seemed to be uniquely Garcia Flynn. “Please.”

Jaded by their arousal, she reached for the fly of his pants that were separating them from skin-to-skin contact. He didn’t stop her but rather raised his hips ever so slightly. Lucy unbuttoned and zipped down the fly. He fell heavy into her hands and she gently squeezed him. Flynn groaned loudly at the touch, the sound erotic to her ears.

Flynn was hot and hard in her palm yet at the same time, also velvety and soft. _He’s certainly…lengthier than Wyatt_ , Lucy mused to herself smugly. Her touch was deliberately tender as she sized him up with her right hand, her left on his shoulder, steadying herself. She slid up her hand from the base of his cock to the tip, the red, bulbous head already leaking precum. She ran her thumb over it, spreading it with her thumb and Flynn cursed out in Croatian, quivering under her.

“Lucy,” Flynn moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he enjoyed her administrations. “Oh, gods, Lucy.”

He gripped her thighs, his hands sliding upwards until his thumbs hooked itself underneath her lacy panties. One of them remained on the edge of it as the other trailed moved the cloth aside, exposing her shaved cunt.

Lucy hissed at the cool air hitting her hot pussy and Flynn groaned at the sight. The pad of his thumb slid through the slickness of her arousal before pushing it inside, licking his lip when she clenched around his digit.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already wet for me,” Flynn stated hoarsely in awe or arrogance, Lucy couldn’t tell. His gaze slid down to where he parted her sweet cunt with his fingers which were already glistening with her moisture. Slowly, he slid his middle finger inside her, stretching her and Lucy mewled. Normally, she would be absolutely horrified by the sounds that were coming out of her mouth but now, she didn’t care as long Flynn kept making her feel this good.

When she didn’t give him a reply, he looked up at her smugly. “Why, Lucy,” Flynn purred with a grin. “Have I rendered you speechless?”

His sudden playfulness made her want him even more; to shut _him_ up, wiping his smug smile off his face as she rode him. She gave him a hard squeeze and that alone did the trick.

Deciding not to wait any longer, Lucy reached a hand down in between them, holding the crotch of her panties aside. Just as she was about to lower herself onto him, Flynn stopped her.

“Wait.” He put his hand on Lucy’s hips, stopping her from moving and she nearly groaned in frustration.

“What?”

“Are you on protection?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Agent Christopher said it was protocol.”

That was good enough for Flynn. He raised his hips and without warning, he thrust into her welcoming heat in one stroke, both of them letting out a guttural groan. Lucy let out a breathless cry as she threw her arms around him, clutching onto him as the intense pleasure overwhelmed her. He was so deep inside her, Lucy had to shift her body a bit, trying to ease the bite of discomfort. Yet, her body didn’t seem to care about the unexpected but welcomed intrusion. Her cunt rippled around him, squeezing, trembling, both already on the verge of the inevitable orgasm.

The older man held the trembling woman in his arms, both of them taking a moment to get use to the sensation of being together.  

“You okay?” Flynn asked Lucy huskily as he wiped away the loose strands that fell on her face. She nodded mutely, unable to talk.

The scent of their lust was heavy and humid in the air, sweat clinging onto their bodies. Her skin was flushed and tingling, Lucy’s breasts heavy, tender and sensitive.

“You’re so tight, Lucy,” he gasped, swearing in his native language as his hands dug into her hips, resisting the urge to pound into her mercilessly, his desire for her strong. His gasped words were threaded with a hint of delicious anguish, empowering her.

Pressing a calloused hand against her lower abdomen, the rough pad of his thumb circled the tiny nub, shocking her body with fires of pleasure. He rubbed her clit excruciatingly slow, massaging it in a slow, circular motion. Everything in core clenched deliciously around his thick cock, rippling him in deeper.

His neck arched. “Ah, Lucy,” Flynn bit out, his bright green eyes looking up at her warningly. “Keep this up and I won’t last much longer.”

Lucy regarded him through hooded eyes, a small smirk playing on her lips, the dark promise enticing. Never in her wildest dreams would she have ever imagined having sex with the man she was once ordered to kill. In his – _their –_ room no less. But seeing Garcia Flynn beneath her, his head thrown back in pleasure, moaning her name, Lucy wouldn’t have it any other way.  

She raised her hips slowly before sliding back down onto him, fully sheathing him and she repeated the motion. Flynn cursed and placed gripped her hip tighter, urging her not to increase her pace.

“Go slow, Lucy.” His voice had an authoritative bite to it that strengthened her lust for him.

However, she didn’t care.

Lost in ecstasy for Flynn, Lucy lifted herself up and taking him again, feeling a delicious soreness underneath her belly at being pushed at her limits. Honeyed eyes locked with viridian ones as pleasure overtook them, rippling from the core where their bodies were joined.

She pressed her mouth to his bruisingly, her fingers gripping his now sweat-damped hair. Lucy kissed him passionately, her hips rocking in time with his slow thrusts, though she wanted more. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Flynn rubbing her clit was maddening, the orgasm building up rapidly with every thrust of his penis sliding in and out of her.

Lucy cried out his name. “Flynn,” she sobbed, “It feels so good. You feel so good!”

The brunette didn’t care that she was moaning like a tart. She didn’t care about the possibility of the other members of the team hearing them, fully knowing what they were doing behind closed doors. All she cared about was the man that was making her feel undeniable amazing.

Using both of his hands, Flynn took command of the rhythm, increasing his pace and pounding into Lucy mercilessly. He tilted her to an angle to where the tip of his cock rubbed deliciously against her sweet spot, feeling a new wave of her warmth coating his shaft.

“Look at me, Lucy. I want to see your eyes when you come.” The intensity of Flynn’s voice matched his expression.

Lucy trembled above him, coming to the realization she was about to come from that; his commanding voice, the expert thrusts, his fingers speeding up. Her breath hitched with every thrust, the desire bubbling up inside her rising up rapidly; almost as if her body was on fire.

“ _Garcia!_ ”

Flynn tugged her head down into a searing kiss as he pounded his hips up inside her with abandon, swallowing her cries of passion. He watched her fall apart in his arms as an orgasm wracked throughout her body, yelling his name. Lucy’s body jerked with every pulse of pleasure, spurred on by the look of dark desire she saw on his face. His eyes were wild with his need and desire for her, losing focus as he raced towards his own release. His face contorted as he felt the swell of his balls tightening, his thrusts relentless.

“ _Lucy!_ ” He came with sound akin to a feral growl that one would expect from an animal, not from a man lost in the sweet heat. He snarled as he spilled his seed deep inside her, shaking as his orgasm tore into him.

For a moment, Lucy held him at his most vulnerable, pressing comforting kisses on his cheek and temple as Flynn clutched her tightly against him.

“Lucy.” Her name seemed to be the only coherent that Flynn could muster out, not that she minded. He pressed his damp face into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily as she stroked his damp hair.

They stayed like that for a while, not caring about the time outside their bubble. They held each other tightly, riding out the wave of aftershocks from their coupling. Flynn craned his head upwards expectantly and Lucy leant down, kissing him softly.

“That was, um, wow.”

Flynn chuckled, nuzzling into her chest, not caring about the stickiness of their sweat covered skin. “Yeah.”

Lucy smiled, feeling utterly relaxed from her high and happiness.

After a few more minutes, without breaking contact, Flynn hoisted their bodies so they were lying down side by side on the small cot. He slid his arm underneath Lucy’s head for her to use as a makeshift pillow and slung the other over her hip.

“I can’t believe you’re real.” He sounded very much in awe, and Lucy didn’t blame him one bit. It was only a few weeks ago where she only had just established she _trusted_ him; with her life and with the missions.

Lucy laughed. “Trust me, I’m very much real.” To prove her point, she tightened around him and Flynn let out a curse.

“Minx,” he growled and her smile only grew wider.

Flynn brushed her hair aside to see her face, his fingertips sliding across her cheeks, then her jaw line affectionately. The way he studied her, looked at her made Lucy’s heart thud in her chest. He looked amazed, happy, content…his eyes warm and tender, no shadows of his past haunting them that she was accustomed to seeing. His smile was laced with adoration as he regarded the woman lying beside him.

Lucy placed a hand on his stubbled cheek and he nuzzled into it.

“Garcia,” she started and he hummed, “I hate to ruin this but we need to talk.” He frowned but he nodded his head for her to continue. “What...are we, exactly? Is this a onetime thing for you?”

He turned his face into her palm and bit her finger affectionately. “Mine,” was all he said and she nearly sighed in exasperation. Yet, she didn’t mind seeing him being so playful. “You’re mine, Lucy,” Flynn repeated again, though more proper and serious than the last. “I hope you know I’m never letting you go. You’ll have to kill me.”

“Well, I guess it’ll never come to that,” she chuckled before looking somber. “But were you serious? About me moving in?”

“Of course I was. I want you here with me, not in the living room where you’re exposed to prying eyes.” The name wasn’t said but they both knew that by ‘prying eyes’, they were referring to Jessica’s husband. Flynn was aware of how many times the blonde glanced at Lucy longingly, sleeping or not. If she were to move in with him, he can at least stave off Wyatt and his advances, letting him know she’s officially taken.

Flynn kissed Lucy’s temple, and then her lips, pouring his feelings into it. He truly did care for Lucy, and by gods, possessive too. The only difference was that he’d never made it known because he had no right to (unlike Wyatt).

Lucy wasn’t his but seeing how much emotional damage her mother did to her on top with Wyatt’s choice of choosing his wife over her, Flynn couldn’t bear to see her recover – to deal with this pain – by herself. Now that Lucy willingly chose to be with him, he’d show her every day what she meant to him. Not because their bond was weaved together through a leather bound journal she had yet to write but because they shared their bodies in the most intimate way possible.

Their futures were in a constant flux of change but one thing they knew for sure was that their lives would be forever intertwined. No matter where Lucy went, friend or enemy, Flynn would be there. This time, he would be with her, hopefully for a long time. At the end of the day, after taking care of Rittenhouse no matter where in time they are, they have each other as a reminder that they’re not alone.

Even now in this moment of peace, they decided to be with each other. It was no coincidence; it was meant to be.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you read all 15k of my mess, thank you so much! I love you! Please, leave a kudos to show your appreciation! If you want to go an extra mile, leave a comment as well! They inspire me to continue writing!


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